SRQ [read: begrudgingly home]

What does it mean to grow up in one of those cities that gets noteworthy recognition by online polls and articles about places to live in the States?

The famous Siesta Sunset. The rare picture, but it (I know, it’s cheesy) can’t really be captured by a camera.

10 things I hate/love about Sarasota:

Average age of its residential population: 65. Throwback to the days of petitioning to have a school bus come to certain neighborhoods because they simply don’t believe there are children that live there. No, there’s a golf course, so obviously no children.

It rains every day at 4 PM. You can basically count down to the very last minute, walk outside, marvel at the water falling from the sky, walk back inside, and wait for it to cool the f*ck down because the water is evaporating into steam before your eyes.

Which brings me to my next point – it’s actually 100 degrees right now. Somewhere, a tourist just got a sunburn. And it’s 6:22 AM. SPF 15,000, folks.

Siesta Key Beach. My beach. The beach that gets all the notice and awards that I’m told is a nice thing because it keeps taxes low. But when I’m driving to see a Siesta sunset the night before returning to Boston and there are no parking spaces, well.

There is probably nothing more magical than driving to the Key over the bay. Sometimes that moment is punctured by the drawbridge being raised, though, and that is one of the least magical moments of one’s life. Sitting, waiting, this boat in between me and my beach.

We’re obsessed with pineapples. Which is okay, because I’m obsessed with pineapples. But we drop a pineapple on New Years Eve. And there’s a pineapple geotag for Snapchat. Why?

An alligator lived on my school campus. Now PV is an awesome place, and we all knew about this gator that wandered between the lakes typically in the early morning. But the rest of the world freaked out when they found out about Billy.

Random famous people live here in their summer homes. Actually, just random people live here for the summer. Which makes summer very irritating with people who don’t really know the city on the roads. The speed limit is actually 55 mph, but that’s okay, feel free to go 35 mph, I’m fine with that. A-okay.

In middle school, we started taking part in some etiquette schooling and dances and all that jazz. Now I know how to set a table and perfectly waltz. This is when I peaked, I mean I did win a fro-yo gift card for Swing dancing at one of the dances. It’s no big deal (read: it’s a big deal).

People finding out about this place. Sarasota has been a well-kept secret (there are still lots of wonderful things about it I just can’t share so as to leave it untarnished, sorry readers) but now there are people everywhere that I just don’t know. Oh, to some degree, in parts of Sarasota everyone knows everyone. So we know you’re an outsider. We’ve got our eyes on you.

Classic beach town vibes mixed with snow birds and manatees (one of those is human). The SRQ is just the SRQ.

Not so bad, especially with the friends I’ve got here. More on that later.